“Gerald, I’ll be out for a bit. You can reach me on the secure line.” He had to get in touch with a number of people he couldn’t call from this office. Logan was now well aware their entire safe system had been compromised. Whoever was listening in and watching their computer communications was learning exactly nothing about their organization. Everything done in the offices of Washington Watchers fell under the normal operations of a congressional watchdog organization. But, they stayed on top of much more at their clandestine site outside D.C.
Logan had to contact other decision makers in his group and try to figure out what the observatory situation could mean. He was sure it wasn’t just coincidence, coinciding with so many key players in the House and Senate quietly leaving for parts unknown in the last two days. And there was the space station. How did the crew’s illness tie in with this?
Burt drove to the coffee shop six miles from their offices, sat in a booth and ordered breakfast. When the waitress sat a mug of coffee in front of him, he laughed and asked, “Sal, can you tell me why I need to go to the bathroom whenever a cup of coffee is placed in front of me?”
She leaned both hands on the edge of the small table; her breasts provocatively close to his face. “Can I hold it for you, Hon?”
Burt roared with laughter. “Sal, you gotta’ be one of the sexiest ladies I know, and I’ll be honest with you; it’s tempting as hell, but you know I’m an old married man.”
“Well, you good lookin’ devil you, it’s your loss. Ya ain’t had the best ‘til you’ve had Sal.”
Burt continued to chuckle as he walked toward the back hall. Of course, their entire conversation was staged to make it appear this was nothing more than a local café. But when he entered the office, opened a door to a supply cabinet and swung the shelves inward, it opened onto a stairway. Trotting down the steps and into a room lined with shelves full of supplies, Burt twirled the dial on the small wall safe hidden between two boxes. The entire set of shelves moved into the storage room, allowing him entry to a small secluded area.
He sat down at a small desk, plugged his cell phone into the computer, and dialed a number. “This is Stray Dog. Any idea what’s up with all the observatories?”
After a short pause, “What the hell is happening inside that space station? You know any more about the virus?” When the person on the other end of his conversation answered, he said, “Dammit! Then, you don’t know if Sky Dog is sick or not? Okay. I think it’s time I get Big Dog outa Dodge. Okay. I’ll be in touch.”
Burt hurried to get back to his breakfast before he aroused suspicion in case someone had followed him. He returned to find Sal placing his order on the table. Good timing. She stood with her hands on her well-shaped hips. “You took a long time to take a tinkle. You wouldn’t have been having your own good time in there without Sal, would you?”
Burt snickered, “No, just a sudden urge I couldn’t ignore.”
“Yeah, that’s what I just said. Feel good?”
“Get outa here and let me eat or no tip for you, you sex nut.”
Room L3-24, the Pentagon
9 AM, Friday, May 29, 2009
Major General Russell G. Parker walked past the outside reception area of his office and through the glass door into his private secretary’s office. The older lady stood and said, “Good morning, Sir.”
Parker always had to stifle a chuckle when she greeted him this way. It seemed Mrs. Hyatt always tried to stand at attention to greet him, but it didn’t work. Her old spine and weakened body just couldn’t quite make it. But she was a quiet pleasant woman and knew her job extremely well. He inherited not only Mrs. Hyatt from the former occupant of this office, but also assumed his position as commander of all the various Special Forces. Although being an Army General, he was top commander of the Navy Seals, Army Rangers, Air Force CIC, and about a dozen subcommands within these organizations. Of course, each command had its own leader, but they ultimately reported to him and he, in turn, reported to the joint chiefs.
“Good morning, Missus Hyatt. How are you this morning?”
“Same as yesterday, General. I’m too darn old.” As he chuckled at her standard answer, she added, “Sir, a Mister Logan called and left a message for you before I came in. I suppose he’s with the media or a free lance journalist. Said he’d like to interview you about the rescue of the missionaries by the Army Rangers in Iraq. Should I call and tell him you’re too busy?”
“You say a Mister Logan?” Damn! What’s he doing calling here?
“Yes, Sir.”
“Did he leave a number?”
Mrs. Hyatt turned back toward her desk and picked up a two-part message form, removed the top copy, and handed it to him. The copy she kept went into a basket on her desk. He’d have to get that copy, too. Parker didn’t want anything from Logan in the files. Of course, all his phone calls were recorded and saved, so he’d have to call from somewhere else.
“Thank, you, Missus Hyatt. I’ll give him a call a little later. I think that’s the fellow from Washington Watchers. I did an interview with him several years ago. They usually keep track of who’s spending what.” He deliberately faked a quiet laugh and continued, “They probably want to know what it cost for us to pull those missionaries out of harm’s way.” He started for his office but stopped and turned back to her. “By the way, Missus Hyatt, I have a bit of paperwork to take care of, and then I’ll be out of pocket the rest of the day. Have to go talk to my daughter’s high school class about joining the military. It’s career day. Tried to get out of it, but I guess you know what raising kids is like.”
“Yes, Sir. I certainly do.”
“You know, Missus Hyatt, I’ve been in this office nearly a year, and darned if I’m not sorry that I’ve never really gotten to know you. Do you have children?”
“Three sons and a daughter, Sir.”
He could tell from the huge smile she was happy he had asked her. “Grandchildren?”
She shook her head, still smiling. “General Parker, I’m nearly ashamed of the way my children feel about propagating the species. I have twenty-seven. Good, Lord! Can you imagine?"
General Parker chuckled. “Twenty-Seven kids. Wow. That’s a lot of birthday gifts to buy.”
They both laughed as he entered his office, but the minute he was behind his closed door, Parker got a worried look on his face. He glanced at his watch; 9:08. What could Logan have thought so damn important to call here? How am I going to get in touch with him with no one knowing? He’s changed the contact number so damned many times. I’ll try the last one. General Parker was sure the number he gave Mrs. Hyatt wasn’t legitimate. That would be too risky, knowing the General’s calls were all recorded.
He couldn’t ignore his immediate job. That would raise suspicion if, as he believed, they were keeping close tabs on him. It had started shortly after his vacation to his ranch in Texas, where he spent a lot of time with his nephew. What worried him was who. Who was keeping close tabs on him and, more importantly, who could he trust?
~ 2 ~
Burt Logan knew he had taken the chance of being discovered by calling Parker at his office, but he had to talk to him immediately. As soon as he left the message at Parker’s office, he drove to the payphone on the other side of D.C. to await the General’s call. He sat on the park bench for nearly three hours, reading the paper and even the want ads in the Washington Post. To any passerby, he would look like one of the professionals working in the huge office complex across the wide avenue from the park.
Finally, at 11:45, the payphone rang. He quickly dropped the paper on the bench and grabbed the receiver. “Logan here.” He paused and then answered. “Yes. At two o’clock.” He replaced the receiver and looked around. The General told him to meet him at two on the dot in the cafeteria of Clark High school. Why would he . . . Oh, yeah. The General had a kid in high school.
He had plenty of time. Thinking about meeting the General in the school cafeteria reminded him he needed a strong cup of bla
ck coffee, and he was beginning to get a headache. A few blocks from the school, he pulled up to a coffee shop.
~~~
As General Parker drove toward his daughter’s school, he thought back over the last eight years and all that had transpired. God, things were so much simpler then. He was an up and coming Colonel, about to be promoted to Brigadier. His wife had just given birth to their second daughter, and life couldn’t have been much better. He conned his way into a thirty-day leave when his baby girl came into the world, and they took the time to go home to San Angelo, Texas to the small fifty-acre spread where they would one day retire. Never would he have thought that trip to San Angelo would be so profound or entirely change his life and what he believed in.
His only sister’s son, Stephan Martin, was a young Army Ranger Captain and a helicopter pilot. By chance, Stephan came home on leave after a stint in Bosnia at the same time General Parker took his leave. Of course, he was anxious to talk to his nephew about his experience. He had gone to Bosnia for three days some time earlier, but he wanted to hear from his nephew what it was like day in and day out. Sure, he heard all of it from others, but being his nephew, he figured Stephan would give him the straight poop without dressing it up for a senior officer. He could trust Stephan's word.
The third day they were at their small ranch, Stephan called. He’d asked if he could come out early that morning for a visit. He seemed nervous, and it had concerned him.
General Parker smiled when he thought about Stephan. His nephew never seemed real keen about a military career when he was going to San Angelo State, but had surprised him when he immediately joined the Army after graduation. He had been a standout in all his basic training, jump school, and finally, Ranger school. The General remembered kidding him, how the people doing the training knew his uncle was a Ranger officer and made things easy for him. Truth was the trainers made Stephan’s life a living hell because of his uncle and the fact that Stephan himself was a newly commissioned first lieutenant.
As he pulled into the school parking lot, Parker glanced at his watch. He was to speak at 1:00, and it was only 12:30. He strolled into the school, thinking he’d drop by the cafeteria for an iced tea to kill time. As he sipped at the tea, his thoughts turned back to Stephan and that day at the ranch.
After a huge hug, Stephan asked, “What do you say we take a ride? You still have that beautiful Arabian stud, Hellfire?”
“You really wanta ride that mean bastard? Good stud, but a real son of a bitch to handle.”
“Hey, Colonel, I’m a Ranger. What else do I need to say?”
“Well, come on in, and say hi to your aunt and Melissa . . . and meet your new little cousin. Shelly’s beautiful.” He slapped Stephan on the back as they moved up the three steps to the porch.
~~~
The house sat next to and above a pretty, year-round creek lined with maple trees. It was late enough in the summer that all the leaves were starting to turn yellow and fall spiraling to the ground. They rode alongside the creek for several minutes and Stephan, having always been a talkative person, remained silent. Parker knew he must have something on his mind he wanted to talk about.
“You have someone knocked up that you shouldn’t, nephew?”
When he burst into laughter, the stud did everything but stand on his head. After he had the horse under control and back to a slow trot, Stephan said, “You were right about this stallion.” He leaned forward and gave a couple of pats to the magnificent horse’s neck. “Now to answer your question, things are more serious than that, Uncle Russell.”
Again, Stephan remained silent, as if pondering what to say or how to say it. His face sort of screwed up in a furrowed-brow, thoughtful expression. “I’m not real sure how to approach this subject.” As he spoke, Stephan stopped his horse and dismounted next to a flat rock outcrop. He tied the reins to a low-hanging branch and sat down on the rock. When his uncle was seated next to him, he said, “Uncle Russell, I know you’re familiar with all the nut cases out there and their anti-government theories.”
“Yes, I know there are a good half a dozen different organizations that scream everything from One World Order to World Government, anti-people conspiracies by our own government, etcetera. What about them?”
“Have you heard of Americans for America?”
“Can’t say I have.” He looked at Stephan with a slight smile, “What are you trying to get at, Stephan? Just tell me.”
“Let me ask you something, Colonel. Are you familiar with the following operations? Wildfire? Down and Out? Operation
One Way?”
“Never heard of them. What the hell are they?”
“They are important missions you should have known about as Special Forces commander, Uncle Russell. Wildfire . . . a Ranger operation sent there to place a device in a remote location on the coast of France. Down and Out . . . same operation, but in Northern Turkey. And One Way. . . same thing, and placed smack dab in the middle of the Australian outback. Wanta know what those devices are?”
“I’m listening.”
“Every one of them is a laser transmitter. The interesting and scary part is they are aimed at our own satellites and they can be remotely activated to knock out our own communications satellites. Not our spy satellites, but our vital military Comsat system. They are designed and aimed to make our military blind.”
“Christ, Stephan, you must be wrong. Why would anyone want to do that? Oh, yeah, I realize there are plenty of terrorists groups and even governments that would like to do it, but it wouldn’t do them any good. They couldn’t begin to fight our military power with or without the birds operating.”
“Yeah, isn’t that the strange part?”
“How do you know all this?”
“I wasn’t really in Bosnia, Uncle Russell. I led the team to Northern Turkey.”
“But you’re not an electronics expert.”
“No, but the guy with us, a civilian, was. He went along to activate the devices once they were in place.” Stephan laughed and continued, “He asked me why we were putting these devices in place. When I told him I only followed orders, he told me exactly what they were and where they were aimed. He seemed as much in the dark as I was. He was just a guy working for the firm that manufactured them. Here’s the scary part. The day he returned home from Turkey, he was shot dead walking out of the airport. Sniper rifle. I swear to God, his death was planned.”
For some time, Colonel Parker stared at his nephew. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Finally, he spoke. “I don’t get it. So you put these things in place, then the civilian tech is murdered. None of it makes any sense.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it does. That’s where Americans for America comes in.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s me. Uncle Russell . . . Colonel, why do you suppose you were completely unaware of all these operations? Someone doesn’t want you to know. You, of all people, should have known all about any penetration of another country’s territory by Army Rangers. Do you suppose the President knows? The Secretary of the Army? People in Congress? Who ordered it? Why? These are questions which are driving me mad.”
“What do you think?”
“Shit, Uncle Russell, I don’t know. But, here’s some more information for you. I’m sure you’re aware how people get elected to office, with all the various interest groups, PACs, private contributors. And, I’m sure you know there’s always a payback expected. Could be someone out there figures it's time they collect.”
“Yes, unfortunately, that’s the way it works.”
“You do know who Washington Watchers are?”
“Yes, they keep their eyes on what Congress is spending money on, that sort of thing. What do they have to do with this?”
“They do far more than that, Colonel. Things like keeping track of who owns the companies that do business with the government. Sure, we know the contract for something might be with some company
or another like EDA Electronics, but who is that? You want to know who owns the company that made the devices we planted? They were built without any sort of identification names or numbers on them. Washington Watchers later learned the contract was issued via NSA, to a company owned by a German consortium . . . who also owns Basic Knowledge Electronics. Just happens that the folks at Basic contributed money to the campaigns of at least three dozen U.S. Representatives and eight Senators. Sure blows your mind, doesn't it?”
“It’s a bitch of a system, isn’t it?”
“That’s not the worst of it that they contributed to all those folks. If someone in government wanted to dig into it deeply enough . . . they would find funds transferred from that German consortium - to Basic - to cover all those contributions. So, you now have a group of foreign businessmen putting their people in Congress. Then they’re awarded contracts to build shit that can blind our military. What I would ask is why would they only contribute to those in positions . . . such as the Armed Services Committee and the Foreign Relations Committee? You answer that, and the hair on your neck will stand up.”
“Christ, Stephan, you have been digging into all this.”
“Uncle Russell, I’m actually scared shitless about all of it. It looks as though the people in that, German consortium is gaining control of some of the most influential politicians and, through them, control of all our damned military. The hell of it is, as I’m only a lowly Captain and Apache pilot, it’s hard for me to get information.”
“What you’re saying is . . . I can get the information.”
Stephan leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees and snapped a small twig between his fingers. “Yes. Uncle Russell, I wonder if you have enough trust in me to take a quick trip to Colorado. There's much more I want to tell and show you.”
“What’s in Colorado?”
“Two things. A safe place where our families can go if there’s some sort of emergency and a man I’d like you to meet.”
Patriots Awakening Page 2
